“Always your friend,

“Irene.”

Irene within three miles of him!⁠—and again in flight! He stood with a very queer smile on his lips. This was more than he had bargained for!

About noon he set out on foot across Richmond Park, and as he went along, he thought: “Richmond Park! By Jove, it suits us Forsytes!” Not that Forsytes lived there⁠—nobody lived there save royalty, rangers, and the deer⁠—but in Richmond Park Nature was allowed to go so far and no further, putting up a brave show of being natural, seeming to say: “Look at my instincts⁠—they are almost passions, very nearly out of hand, but not quite, of course; the very hub of possession is to possess oneself.” Yes! Richmond Park possessed itself, even on that bright day of June, with arrowy cuckoos shifting the tree-points of their calls, and the wood doves announcing high summer.